


Stripped Bare

by mansikka



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Caring Alec, M/M, Sad Magnus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-16 01:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13043877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Magnus is having a day where he doesn't like himself.





	Stripped Bare

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :) just a headsup - Magnus is not happy in this fic, but it's not because of a particular event, he's just, well, having a day where he doesn't like himself; Alec happens to be there to try and help him feel better. This neither means that I think Magnus is a weak character - because he's anything but, nor that I think Alec is the answer to all of Magnus' problems - because of course, he isn't. Even the strongest people in the world have bad days, and even the most loving of partners can't solve everything; this was just an exploration of an idea that popped into my head and wanted to be written out of it!
> 
> x

This facade he wears is not something he threw together over the space of one long-ago evening on a whim; it’s a wall he’s been building up carefully over much of his life. Layer upon layer of quirked brow and confident smile when he’s feeling anything but. Brick upon brick of beautiful fabric, painstakingly applied kohl, hour-dried nail polish glinting from his fingertips.

Some days, when the sun is shining and all he sees is happiness around him, Magnus forgets why he built those walls in the first place. Wonders what it might be like to bare himself to that world around him, hold his head high, and be accepted for what he hides, not what he shows. Be accepted for _all_ the parts of him, instead of those deemed acceptable. Of course, on those days, those thoughts are merely fleeting moments. Because the second he thinks to run fingers through his hair to loosen it of product, or step outside in something as simple as a sweatshirt and jeans, there’s a whispered reminder of why he isn’t good enough to bare himself like that to other people. And it’s much too hard work to ever question _why_ that is. And it’s not as though he doesn’t _enjoy_ the armor he’s come to wear, doesn’t love to immerse himself in the world of fashion. It’s just that, on some days, it would be nice to show the world what he’s really like, instead of being what it expects to see.

Most days, that wall he’s constructed he can’t even be without within his own four walls. Never truly making eye contact with himself in the mirror as he carefully applies whatever make up will be his shield of choice, his armor already laid out on the bed ready for him to slip in to. And of course, all the jewelry that he feels naked without; that too is another protective layer between himself and everyone else. So their eyes are drawn to his styled hair, made up face, painted nails, and all the glints from whatever jewels are on this day adorning him—and not to _him_.  

Magnus without his shields is a Magnus no one gets to see, would _want_ to see, after all.

Though strangely, for all the times he doubts, Magnus _does_ accept himself. He is proud of his High Warlock status, knows he works hard to protect all the people he loves. And every time he strives to make a difference it’s as though it lightens that load on his shoulders, so the head held high is his real one, not the mannequin he sometimes feels he becomes.

And sometimes, the sadness that descends on him is not for all of his many faults and troubles, but for all of those he’s lost. Some have blended into one single ache of mourning, yet others stand out like brightly colored gems adorning his favorite clothes, and it is hard to smile knowing he’ll never see theirs again.

But some days, Magnus sighs, staring himself down in his full-length mirror, some days he has to bare himself _to_ himself, in reminder of why he builds up the barriers he does. Because when he’s stripped bare, he _has_ to look at himself. See the physical scars, feel the deeper ones, give in to the memories churned up from their combined presence to keep him in his place. He needs it, he thinks, for those fleeting moments when he daydreams about letting his guard down, to keep him present in the reminder of why he can’t.  

There are labels that Magnus likes to give himself, that are infinitely kinder than the words he usually rains on his reflection. Those are different; they are the essence of who he is, what he is capable of, a foundation of himself that supersedes all the poor choices and terrible mistakes he’s made over the years. But in dark moments like the one he is experiencing this evening, the only labels Magnus has for himself are cruel ones.  

Magnus watches the rise and fall of his shoulders, looks at the many layers adorning him, and finally after several failed attempts to do so, lifts his gaze, and looks himself in the eye. Before him stands a man who is cruel beyond words, evil beyond measure, tainted beyond saving, and undeserving of anything good. And he’s—

Magnus’ eyes snap closed at the muffled thud of the front door closing, and he sags forward a touch, not sure if it’s in disappointment or relief. He needs these moments to remind himself of all that is wrong with him; without them, who knows what things he could reveal. And yet Alec will soothe him just by being here, like no one else can. Even if Magnus knows he can, and will, get over this on his own like he has done so many times before Alec came along.

“Magnus,”

Magnus doesn’t have to look to picture Alec paused in the bedroom doorway to know he’s come to a stop just inside it, and his worried eyes are sweeping over his back. It is the most horrible feeling to be in the same room as the person he loves more than anything, yet hear the voices in his head driving him to push Alec away. So Magnus grits his teeth and doesn’t answer, hoping to keep the cruel, unmeant taunts from escaping through his lips, because Alec doesn’t have to hear any one of them; this is his burden to carry, his insecurity to overcome, no one else’s fault that on some days, he feels like falling apart for no other reason than existing.  

Magnus is aware of every sound around him; the ticking of the clock out in the loft, the brush of velvet on velvet as he moves his arms closer to his body, Alec’s steady breathing behind him as he continues to stare. So it should come as no surprise that when Alec lets out a soft sigh, Magnus flinches for it, curls a little tighter into himself, and further squeezes shut his eyes. His heart aches from its harsh, steady pounding, and the urge to cry hits Magnus hard, even if he can’t put his finger on _why_.

“I love you,”

Magnus’ head bows forward a little further, and his lip trembles fiercely as he tries to stave those tears off. He jolts hard when warm hands squeeze around his shoulders then slip their way down his back, curl around his waist, pull him back against a solid warm chest that immediately confuses Magnus for how comforted he feels, and how much he wants to tear himself out of the embrace until this _mood_ he is in has left him. But he doesn’t, instead lets out a shaky sigh as Alec presses one soft kiss to the side of his neck then drops his forehead on his shoulder and just holds on to him, calm, steady, unhurried, without question or remark.

How long they stand together like that Magnus isn’t sure, but it seems an age later when Alec is squeezing his hands around his waist, gently urging him to turn.

“Hey,” he says, soft but encouraging as he does, leaning to press a kiss to his temple then gently snatching up his fingers, guiding Magnus over to his dressing table and gently lowering him into his chair. And then Alec is straddling his thighs and precariously lowering himself into Magnus’ lap, perhaps aware of the delicate nature of the chair now holding the weight of two men.

Alec’s kisses are sweet; to the corner of his lips, over cheek, jaw, and brow, the tip of his nose and the bridge of it where a first tear made its escape and fell. His hands are wide as they clutch his upper arms, body relaxed as he leans against Magnus’ chest, and his eyes dance when he pulls back to smile at him seeming so very happy to see him, it puts fresh tears in Magnus’ eyes all over again.

Alec raises his arms then. Loops them around Magnus’ shoulders as he leans in further to hug him, pressing a kiss in what feels like reward to the back of his head when Magnus finally manages to lift his own arms to hug him back. And another age passes for Magnus, not quite enough time to bring him back to himself, yet steadying the beating of his heart and allowing him to _feel_ Alec there. Know he isn’t going anywhere, and that there’s nothing he could do or say that would truly send him away.

When Alec sits up again he leans in for a quick kiss, then settles his hands wide on his shoulders, studying his face. Magnus darts his eyes away, not really ready to make the eye contact, closing them again as Alec sweeps one of those hands up the back of his neck to cup his head. Magnus feels a kiss to his cheek as Alec sweeps his other hand up, and with gentle fingers he begins to loosen the product from his hair, sweeping them through repeatedly until that tight feeling that had been irritating Magnus just above his right temple where his hair had set too tight is released.  

Magnus leans into Alec’s touch, concentrates on his fingers massaging at his scalp in small soothing circles, until every last bit of that product—and the tension there—is gone. Though the loss of that tension seems to act as a catalyst, because tears fall from his eyes unchecked, and Alec is humming in sympathy, once more wrapping him up in his arms.

Alec seems to sense the moment when Magnus feels a little stronger, because he pulls back, cups his face, and kisses him hard. And then with one hand still cupping his face and the thumb of it brushing circles into his cheek, Alec reaches behind him as though it is a practiced move, then sits back a little, settling better on Magnus’ lap.

When Magnus opens his eyes they are looking down, catching the eye make up remover bottle in one of Alec’s hands, and the pad pinched between the fingers of the other. His stomach knots and unknots for seeing it, knowing what Alec wants, remembering the last time he’d slipped into this awful, hateful feeling, and exactly how Alec will help him find his way back. And Alec is just as patient as the last time, waiting for Magnus’ hesitant nod before uncapping the bottle to pour the cleaner on to the pad, nestling it between them as he angles Magnus’ jaw up in a gentle grasp. They look at each other for a long moment, and Alec waits before Magnus nods again to lift the pad up, slowly wiping away the make up from his eyes.

Magnus recalls the story Alec told him last time, of how he’d learned about make up removal from Izzy, who’d broke her arm as a teen and still insisted on putting make up on, but apparently didn’t have quite as much energy to take it off. Perhaps it is testament to just how much worse he’s feeling now—how _sorry_ for himself he must be looking, that Alec isn’t telling him any such stories this time. Just gently removes every trace of make up from his face in silence, pushing the bottle and cotton pad back on to the table behind him.

Magnus feels so bare without it, which he knows is irrational. He goes to bed without make up every night with Alec right there with him, smiling at him with just as much adoration as he is doing now when Magnus forces himself to look.

“You’re beautiful,” Alec whispers, not waiting for Magnus to comment, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pulling him in to another hug. And again he just holds him, breathing steady, apparently in no rush to be anywhere else at all.

When Alec pulls back this time he cups his face again, drawing Magnus into a longer kiss that is so full of affection, that when it finishes Magnus can’t help smiling for it. Alec’s eyes fall to his lips and light up as though he’s pleased to see that smile, leaning forward to nuzzle against his cheek then pulling back, and reaching behind him to grab Magnus’ hands to pull and rest between them.

Each ring is removed with a kiss to the knuckle beneath it, and when his fingers are free of decoration, Alec raises each hand in turn to kiss the back of. His fingers slide down Magnus’ wrist to remove the tangle of bracelets there, then walk up his chest, playing with the dangling chains. Some evenings when they’re laid out on the couch together with nothing particular to do, Alec does just that; has his fingers slotted through whatever jewelry is on Magnus’ chest and plays with it absently, sometimes tugging on it to draw Magnus in to a kiss. Not that he needs any such encouragement of course; when they have a moment to themselves neither of them are able to stop touching one another. It doesn’t have to be anything sensual even though often it is; the warmth of palm on skin is grounding for them both, and Alec knows this, is using this fact to his advantage right now, with the thumb of his free hand circling over the bare skin in the opening of Magnus’ shirt.

Magnus ducks as Alec eventually lifts those chains up over his head, knows it’s irrational that he feels even more bared without them than he does without his make up, and offers up a hesitant smile that’s still full of tremble.

“You’re beautiful,” Alec says again, kissing away that smile.

Beautiful is not what Magnus feels. He feels caustic, like he might blister Alec’s skin just for touching him. Loathsome, as though he might pull away repulsed. Vindictive, like the first words to spill from his mouth will be full of bitterness. And so very lost, it doesn’t currently feel like there’s a way back.

It’s not often that this despair that descends gets to him quite like this. A rare occasion when he feels the need to strip himself bare to seek out his every fault. And it’s only the second time Alec has witnessed it, so there is a hope that he might not have put Alec off for this _weakness_ of his. Not yet anyway.

Alec smiles back at Magnus as though he couldn’t be more in love.

There are soft kisses as he reaches up to remove Magnus’ ear cuff, whispered praise in that ear to replace the weight of it that stops his heart from racing in doubt. More kisses and hugs as Alec _waits_ for him, as though he can sense that moment when it’s approaching that will allow Magnus to let go of the rest of those tears he’s been bottling up all day, yet can’t come up for a specific reason for. Magnus cries himself out into Alec’s arms, holds on to him tightly, fearful he might pull away. But Alec does nothing but hold him, soothe him, _love_ him through it, and when there are no more tears to shed and he’s feeling foolish, Magnus looks up at Alec only to see that beautiful, adoring smile once again.

“I love you,” Alec says, and if that isn’t overwhelming; that Alec could love him through these _moments_ , his moods, the differences they must face on either side of the world they live in and still be looking at Magnus as though he is the most incredible thing in his world. Magnus wants to say he doesn’t deserve Alec’s love, but there’s a look in Alec’s eye that already says he knows he’s thinking it, and won’t stand for hearing it out loud. So Magnus sags into Alec’s arms, allows himself to be cradled, and waits out this feeling of helplessness until it lifts from him again.

“We’re gonna take a bath,” Alec announces, standing and gently pulling Magnus to his feet. Their fingers tangle together as Alec leads him through to the bathroom, and Magnus stands awkwardly by the edge of the bath as Alec sorts through their various foams and bubbles to select the one he wants to fill the tub with. Magnus’ personal favorite, of course. But before he even turns the faucet Alec is setting the bottle down on the edge of the bath and crowding up against Magnus, kissing him insistently and nudging him back across the room. Magnus knows he should have expected it, the way when they stop kissing, Alec spins him, but to have to see himself in the mirror again is so very difficult.

Alec doesn’t say anything as he undresses him slowly, his only expectation from Magnus to hold his gaze in the mirror since he can’t yet look properly at himself. And as each of those layers are peeled away, that flighty feeling in his heart starts to lessen; Alec is his anchor as well as his unmasker, and there is no one else in this world Magnus would trust as he does Alec.

“Look at you,” Alec says once he has Magnus naked, and his voice is in awe as he stares back at him in the mirror. Alec’s hands sweep down his chest, over his arms and thighs, coming to a stop over his stomach as he hooks his chin over his shoulder and looks him over with a soft smile. “Look at you,”

“I’d… rather look at you,” Magnus stutters out, reaching up to squeeze Alec’s hands. Alec hums at that, mouthing his way up his neck, nosing at the back of his hair before pulling away. And Magnus watches in the mirror as Alec strips in seconds, settles back against his bare chest with a sigh when he returns to him.

“You’re beautiful,” Alec insists, to which Magnus closes his eyes, opening them again at Alec’s insistent wriggle behind him, “you are,”

“I don’t _feel_ —”

“But you are, Magnus,” Alec tells him, catching his eye in the mirror again, “you’re so many things,”

“Alexander—”

“You’re _beautiful_ ,” Alec repeats, “and you’re _hot_ ,” he adds, backing it up with a wink that Magnus would be a lesser man for not smiling back at, especially for the blush flooding Alec’s cheeks. “Sexy,” which is whispered just behind Magnus’ ear; partly for the effect Alec knows it will have on him spoken there, and partly for it being a word Alec might _think_ , but doesn’t often say out loud.

“Alex—”

“Kind. Funny. Compassionate with people who don’t always deserve it. Loyal. Honorable—”

“I don’t do much that is _honorable_ —”

“I say you do. So you _do_ ,” Alec insists with a nip to his earlobe to follow it up. Then raises an eyebrow at Magnus in the mirror until he can nod back. “Where was I?”

“Attempting to make me sound like some sort of… saint?”

“Not saint,” Alec corrects with a sharp shake of his head and another squeeze around his waist, “no one’s a saint, Magnus. But I need you to know that whatever’s going on in your head, whatever you’re _remembering_ , you’re… there’s more to you than just your memories, Magnus. I don’t want you to forget that,”

“I know,” Magnus agrees, one thought of his wrongdoings spiraling into another, dropping his eyes from Alec’s gaze again.

“Hey,” he whispers, “come back to me,”

“I—”

“You’re generous,” Alec says, kissing at his temple, “you put just about everyone before yourself,”

“That’s not—”

“You’re forgiving. Patient—”

“I am definitely neither of those things—”

“But you are, Magnus,” Alec smiles, “you _are_. Maybe not always. Maybe not for all things. But who is? And who’d wanna be?”

Magnus tries to find an argument for that, and fails.

“And I don’t know the best way to help you forget, or deal with, whatever it is that’s… hurting you right now, Magnus, but I need you to know that I’m here for you. And that I love you. And that there’s nothing that’s ever gonna change my mind about that,”

But Alec _does_ know, exactly what to do when this feeling hits him, Magnus thinks. He hasn’t pushed, he hasn’t said too many words, and he’s both held him and held him up, even as he’s stripped him bare. There is no one else in the world that Magnus has ever been this comfortable with, no one else that has taken the time to work out what he needs. And when Magnus finally looks himself in the eye again, he is relieved by his own expression; he looks loved, and at peace, and totally at ease with himself.

He might not be there just yet. There’s still tendrils of that darkness clinging to his heart that no amount of love can rid him of. But Alec’s love for him is an elixir insinuating its way into his very essence, and as Alec leads him to perch on the edge of the bathtub as he fills it, Magnus allows himself to breathe deep. Watches Alec as he moves and drinks in the sight of him, and looks forward to being wrapped up in his arms beneath those suds. Forgetting the memories and self-loathing that refuses to be silenced today for just a little while.

 


End file.
